


Grasping

by sinecure



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Crossover, F/F, PWP, Porn Battle, Sex, Sexual Content, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-09
Updated: 2012-07-09
Packaged: 2017-11-09 12:07:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/455274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinecure/pseuds/sinecure
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tara's not quite sure who the strange man in the brown pinstriped suit is or his beautiful companion, but she's drawn to her nonetheless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grasping

**Author's Note:**

> **Character/Pairing:** Tara Maclay/Martha Jones  
>  **Rating:** R (adult)  
>  **Genre:** Angst, AU, smut, pwp  
>  **Spoilers:** None  
>  **Summary:** Tara's not quite sure who the strange man in the brown pinstriped suit is or his beautiful companion, but she's drawn to her nonetheless.  
>  **Disclaimer:** I don't own BtVS or DW and I make no money off of them.  
>  **A/N:** This was written for Porn Battle XI, the prompts were 'sad' and 'thumb'.

Tara wasn't sure exactly where they'd come from, just that they were suddenly there as she ran from a demon in the cemetery by the dorms. Her heart pumped hard, breath bursting from her lips. The brown-haired man with the glasses and the brown suit was full of energy, practically exploding with it as he talked to the demon with the blue face and red eyes. He reminded her of Spike, bursting at the seams with pent-up energy. Spike and Willow.

Who were probably together right now.

Making love, or having sex? Neither of those, she thought, but that other word that Willow liked to use in the dark while her fingers and mouth touched places on Tara that made her explode into hot pieces of melted yumminess.

Well, Tara could move on as well. Spike had, Buffy had, Willow had. And now she was.

The woman protecting her--though Tara got the feeling it wasn't protection so much as waiting--was warm and beautiful and she had a smile that brightened the night. Martha. Tara let out a breath and shifted in the small space between them. They were pressed together like sardines in a can, though there was room enough for great big trees around them.

It was kind of nice. Soft.

Looking at Martha, Tara saw the other woman's eyes dart down to her lips and she smiled. Not alone. That was nice, too.

Sliding her hand higher, she leaned close, using questions and words to get nearer. Martha didn't seem to mind, nor did she balk when Tara's hand brushed her breast. "Are they going to fight? Should I get Buffy?"

Martha laughed a little, shaking her head. "There's usually fighting, yeah, but this time it looks like she'll go peacefully." Tara loved her accent, the tenor of her voice. The way her lips formed and shaped her words. Her hand settled on Tara's, pressing it harder to her breast. Brown eyes darting toward the man and the demon, she frowned, lowering her brow. Tara got the impression she was considering something.

Someone.

"Who's Buffy?"

The words were mild but the hand Martha slid under Tara's blouse wasn't. It cupped and pressed and pinched her nipple, her touch nice and arousing. For the first time since breaking up with Willow, Tara felt something more than appreciation for another woman. This was hot and erotic and fast.

Instead of answering, she pushed Martha further into the shadows and pressed her against the back of the mausoleum, kissing her like she used to kiss Willow. No thoughts of Willow sprang to mind, no doubts or panic or guilt. Just pleasure, sweet and tangy. Kissing Martha was new and fresh, wet and needy. She clung to Martha's blouse, pressing against her, tugging her head down to kiss her harder.

Pushing and rocking into Martha's hand as it continued to caress her breasts.

Tara slid her own hand down, taking what she wanted, quickly. Pressing her fingers to the other woman's jeans, between her legs, she smiled at the gasp that spilled out. Then a leg was between hers and she was riding it, gasping in pleasurable breaths, arching into a touch that was foreign and familiar.

Hot and so good.

The voices of Martha's friend and the demon continued to murmur low in the distance as Tara tore her mouth from Martha's and dropped to her knees, fumbling with the button of her jeans. Wishing they had time for more, wanting so much more. All of it, everything. For hours and days on end.

But they only had right now. Until that conversation ended.

Martha grabbed Tara's head and she thought Martha was going to stop her, but she didn't. She stared down for a moment and then brushed Tara's hands away and undid her own jeans, pushing them down as she ducked her head around the corner of the tomb. A shudder went through Martha as Tara slid a finger inside her folds. Then pressed her mouth to the moist skin.

Wet and dripping. So fast.

It was all too fast and so right.

She rocked on her heel for a few precious seconds then rose to her knees and lifted her mouth to Martha's clit, flicking it with her tongue before assaulting her with teeth and lips and tongue and fingers. All at once, sliding slickly inside, rubbing and caressing. Turning herself on more than she'd been in weeks. The wet feel of her nose against the rough hairs of Martha's mound, the smell, the taste, and the chance of being caught.

It was all there. And she loved it. Never a voyeur before, she was now, with this woman. Licking her flesh, Tara opened Martha wider and rocked with her as Martha began to buck into her mouth.

"Bloody hell," Martha whispered, knees bending, trying to get closer.

Tara smiled and flicked her tongue faster. Slid her thumbs inside and caressed in circles.

And then she knew it was almost over. The voices were still there, but closer. Grasping Martha's ass, she licked and bit and thrust with abandon, sucking on her clit. Drawing it into her mouth. Martha shuddered again. And again.

And then she clutched Tara's hair, fisting it as her hips bucked hard, wildly, into Tara's mouth. "Fuck! Tara-- yeah, that's... oh, fuck. More." Her voice was low, faded, but Tara heard it. It caressed her soul, soothing the aching pain that Willow had punched in it. Not healed, but on the road to better.


End file.
